


Trapped

by unspoken_code



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Ghosts, Mental Instability, POV Minor Character, Sam Hallucinates, Sick Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:39:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6231859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unspoken_code/pseuds/unspoken_code
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This strange guy shows up at a freaking psychiatric ward claiming to be able to get her dead brother's ghost out of her head. Honestly. It sounds like one of the young adult novels Marin used to love so much, before happy endings seemed impossible." </p><p>Marin is pretty ordinary, besides the fact that her brother's dead and still talking to her. Luckily, she gets some help with her problem while in a mental institution- from some wacko named Sam.</p><p>Set in "The Born-Again Identity," 7x17.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

It’s a car crash that starts it all. Marin’s brother is drunk and without a ride, both of which lead to his ultimate downfall. His body isn’t really too mangled; it’s the single shard of glass from the windshield that does him in. It tears her family apart, what happens. It tears her apart.

The voices don’t begin until a while later. Later she realizes it has something to do with her deciding to finally put on the stupid friendship bracelet her brother had made her out of sentiment and nostalgia. They had both been at a summer camp together, doing such camp-y type things like fire-making and archery and bracelet weaving. After Mikey had sliced his hand open, the counselors had sent him to the old, soggy picnic table by the range with a bandanna over his wound to do something hopefully not as dangerous. So, he had made the bracelet. It wasn’t the prettiest thing, with its mismatched colors and not-quite-perfectly-executed pattern, but it was beautiful to Marin because he had made it. She didn’t wear it until he was gone, though. Not until about a month after he died, because she was cleaning out her room and found it in her old pink jewelry box.

About a week after she puts it on, Marin is alone in her room reading when she suddenly feels chills slither down her spine. She stiffens and turns around, only to find nothing where she expects... something. She doesn’t know what she thought she would see, but she looks anyway. And then comes the voice.

“Marin.” 

It is quiet, quieter than Mikey was when he was alive, but him nonetheless.  
“Mikey,” she whispers, her voice cracking. She feels crazy. Mikey is dead. It has to be true. But… his voice is unmistakable, and no one else is in the room.

“Marin… I miss you.” 

She misses him too.

“Mikey- I love you, you know that?” she says.

“I know,” he says. And he leaves, as abruptly as he had come. 

She doesn’t hear his voice for at least another couple of weeks. This time her parents aren’t home from work when she gets home from school, so she busies herself making a snack. After the incident, she thinks about Mikey constantly, and their brief interaction. Marin is and was well aware that this isn’t normal, so she dismissed it as her mind’s way of coping, some strange sort of wish-fulfillment. Then Mikey comes again. The cold feeling invades her senses.

“I’m back.” he tells her.

“How are you doing, Mikey?” Marin asks him. She can’t think of anything else to say.

“Well,” he replies. “The afterlife is nice.” She nods, closing her eyes. She rests her hands on the counter to make sure this is real and not a dream. It feels cool against her fingertips. 

“Why did you drive that night?” she inquires. “Why can’t you have- I don’t know- gotten a ride? Why did you have to leave us? Why did you have to leave me?”

“It won’t be forever, Marin,” he says. “I never left you, and I never will.”

“Mikey, I-”

“Goodbye, Marin.” His voice disappears.

His voice comes again, a few days later, slightly louder than before and their conversation longer. He talks to her about her about how her day went and typically mundane things like that, yet it never feels like anything but a blessing to Marin. She knows she is crazy. How can she not? No one else hears the voice of their dead brother in their head. Yet she can’t bring herself to care enough to seek help. Mikey begins to speak to her more and more often, being an almost constant presence in her mind. She comes to expect his whisper daily. Usually he is good-natured, as was his tendency when he was alive. But then sometimes he gets in terrible dark moods, where he says things that worry Marin.

“Come join me,” he always says. “I’m so lonely here. You have no idea, Marin. I love you. Be with me.”

Naturally, she replies in the negative. She isn’t going to commit suicide for the sake of reuniting with her brother. At first, he isn’t cross with her for not giving him the answer he wants, but then he gradually gets angrier and angrier. He keeps telling her to kill herself for him so they can be together, things like that. It frightens her.

“Marin, I love you. I feel so alone. Please join me. All it takes is a razor or a rope, Marin. Marin! Listen to me!”

She tries to ignore him, but it’s so hard. He never leaves her, not even at night. He whispers thoughts of death when she is sleeping to try to get her to agree, and soon, it starts to seem like the only solution. But she never tries anything of that nature, too scared of the potential pain. 

It’s months and months of his switching between soft coaxes and harsh yells before the fire.

oOo

Mikey is getting particularly angry at her, hurling abuses and cruel words. 

“Marin!” he yells as she holds her head in her hands, rocking back and forth on her feet. Marin runs to the door, trying to find a way to escape his voice, but as she jiggles the doorknob, she realizes it’s locked. She’s trapped.

“You can’t leave, Marin,” Mikey tells her in a stern, strangely calm voice. She turns around. The acrid scent of smoke hits her nostrils and she feels the intense heat of flames washing over her. 

“No!” she gasps. He can’t- Mikey is just a voice, isn’t he? He has to be her imagination, but her imagination can’t set things on fire. She dashes to the window and tries to open it. However, it too is shut tight with no hope of her escaping. 

“Marin, don’t leave me,” Mikey whimpers. It sounds like he’s crying. 

Marin also has tears running down her face, although for an entirely different reason. The smoke is clouding her vision and making her eyes water as she stands with her back against the window, watching the walls of fire close in on her. She closes her eyes tightly, praying for this to be just a bad dream, but when she opens them, it turns out to be the opposite. This is when her survival instincts kick into action and she grabs the dictionary from her bookshelf and throws it with all the strength she can muster at the window, shattering the glass.

The shards cut into her fingers as she crouches on the ledge of the window and grips the panes for balance.

“Marin, no!” Mikey yells. “Don’t leave me… just stay with me!”

“I can’t, Mikey, you know I can’t!”

He screeches something unintelligible. She turns around to look at what is left of her room. Marin only has a few seconds before the wall surrounding the window will be consumed by the flames too. She looks back to glance at the distance from the window to the ground. It’s a far jump, but she can probably make it without dying. She hopes. 

She closes her eyes and jumps.

oOo

The police call it arson and claim she did it, because the fire had begun in her room while she was in it. Marin tries to tell them that her brother did it, but that just gets her tossed in some heavily guarded psychiatric hospital with multiple third-degree burns and a broken ankle. Days pass slowly here, like it’s in some sort of time warp. There isn’t much to do except listen to Mikey, who still barrages her with threats and begs her to join him. Every day is the same.

Wake up. Try to eat the bland, hospital-issued breakfast while ignoring Mikey. Try to read while ignoring Mikey. Try to draw while ignoring Mikey. Try to eat lunch while ignoring Mikey. Try to eavesdrop on the ward attendants while ignoring Mikey. Try to take a nap while ignoring Mikey. Try to eat dinner while ignoring Mikey. Try to sleep while ignoring Mikey. 

One day, though, something changes. She’s listening to the nurses outside her door when she hears talk of a new patient, one hospitalized because of a car crash but psychiatrically hospitalized because of sleep deprivation and voices in his head. That’s new. It intrigues her- usually she ignores new admissions (not that they’re a usual occurrence), but sleep deprivation to that extent is not very common. And when she peeks into his room, she sees him staring at his sandwich (one of the better meals the hospital has to offer) with a look of disgust. She leaves before he can spot her.

Marin decides to give him a visit, shake up her routine, so the next day she steals a chocolate bar from one of the nurses and takes it with her to meet him. When she comes in the room, she sees him sitting on the edge of his bed, facing away from her, hands clutching his head. 

“Hello?” she asks. She isn’t sure if he’s in the middle of a psychotic breakdown and if so, what the policy is on interrupting people during one. The man finally turns towards her. He’s tall, lean, with shaggy hair and a sturdy physique. But as he turns, Marin can tell he had had a rough time, probably worse than she’s having with Mikey. At least she can sleep, mostly. Dark circles rim the bottom of his tired eyes, and his posture is defeated. She holds out the bar of chocolate, as a sort of peace offering.

“You want this or not? I saw you yesterday. You didn’t seem too happy with your in-flight meal,” Marin tells him, trying to seem sympathetic. It’s hard to muster up any kind of emotion these days. He still looks troubled, still frowning, but he glances up anyways.

“Thanks. Uh-” he replies, searching for her name.

“Marin. No problem,” she responds, shaking her head. “Sam, right?” He’s about to answer when suddenly he flinches and gasps loudly. Clearly he’s not in a good state, she realizes. He furrows his eyebrows and clasps his head in his hands again, covering his ears. It’s almost as if he’s hearing something incredibly loud and startling. Marin can relate- she’d had enough of that with Mikey to know what it felt like. 

She only hesitates a second before quickly leaving Sam there, grimacing as though in pain.

oOo

The next time Marin comes to his room, Sam is leaning on the wall facing the window, looking all broody. She feels a twinge of empathy; after all, Mikey still sometimes keeps her up at night too.

“Man, you must be really determined to wait out naptime,” she says. Was that insensitive? She can’t tell. Marin holds up another chocolate bar and tosses it on the bed. “Here.”

She moves to leave when he stops her.

“Wait. Uh…” Sam starts. She swivels around, wearing a strange sort of half-grin. “Share this with me.” He gestures, smiling weakly, and chuckles a bit. It’s odd that he would laugh, Marin thinks, being in this place. Probably starved for company. Relatable. 

“Thanks.” They both walk to the bed. “I don’t know why I’m thanking you for a candy bar I stole,” she says, halfway grinning again. He laughs a little, and so does she. His hands are trembling as he perches on the edge of the bed and struggles to unwrap the candy bar. He exhales sharply and frustratedly and gives up on it.

“So,” he says, looking up at her- even though he’s about as tall as her sitting down, which is weird- “how long you been here?”

“Five weeks and counting,” she replies, a little too quickly. “Going for the record.”

He nods.

“How come?”

She shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s a lot of bandages for ‘it doesn’t matter,’” he responds. He has this look of concern on his face, so real- most likely the only real thing in the hospital, what with all the food packed with preservatives and the too-clean floors and walls.

“You want the doctor answer?” she asks more than a little bitterly. “I’m psychotically depressed to a suicidal ideation.” She starts to walk out again, when he surprises her. 

“And the not doctor answer?”

Marin turns.

“I feel like crap. I just… want it to be over.” Her voice cracks as she looks down at her hands fiddling nervously with the frayed hem of her shirt.

“What?”

“Everything.” She pauses. “Come on. Tell me I’m young and have everything to live for.”

He grins briefly and not at all happily. If she had blinked she would have missed it.

“Why would you believe me?”

She scoffs. 

“True. I heard you’re here because the voices won’t let you sleep,” she states matter-of-factly. He looks down before answering. 

“Just one, really.”

“Who is it?” Marin inquires. She finds she actually wants to know the answer. “Like, Charlie Manson or the Devil?” She’s trying to make a joke, which is why it surprises her a bit when he seems to take her question seriously.

“Kind of, yeah,” he answers. That’s not a good answer, she thinks. But she ignores it.

“Me too,” she says. “I… hear a voice.” 

“Is that why you set the fire?” Sam asks. Her mind goes blank with shock as she tries to process what he just said. How does he know? What does he know? Marin can’t even find it in herself to actually study his expression, to see that he’s not trying to mean her harm. But it seems that way anyway, to her brain. She switches to defensive mode almost immediately.

“Who told you that?” Whatever happened to patient confidentiality?

“N-no one. They’re burns, right?” Sam stutters because he notices the sudden change in Marin’s posture, the way she starts to back away like a cornered, frightened animal.

“I-I didn’t set the fire, he did!” she says, unintentionally raising her voice. Her hands fly up near her face, palms toward Sam in a panicked way. “You know what? I don’t even know why I’m talking.” She pivots and faces the door, ready to leave.  
“Marin, it’s okay,” he says reassuringly.

“No, it’s not!” Marin turns back to him, fiery anger displayed in her every motion. “You’re crazier than I am! Charles Manson tells you what to do! At least it’s my own brother-”

She stops herself before she can reveal everything. 

“It’s your brother?” The concern for her clouding Sam’s eyes is nearly unbearable.

“Yes.” Marin is sapped of energy now; it seems that fury-based adrenaline can only take her so far. “It sucks… when it’s your dead brother saying kill yourself to be with him...or he’ll do it for you.”

oOo

When she’s roaming the halls for the trillionth time that week, Mikey still whispering that never-ending whisper, Sam comes out of his room to speak to her. 

“Marin. Marin, hey. Hold on. Um...I’m sorry I upset you.” He truly sounds apologetic.

“It’s okay.” She isn’t too angry at him. Or, at least, she can’t afford to stay that way. He’s her only company in the ward.

“Can I ask you something?”

Marin straightens her spine.

“About?” she asks.

“The fire,” Sam says. Now that Marin has a clearer head, she can see that he doesn’t mean to offend, but the reminder of it still stings, as it did the day before and the day before that and probably it will for the rest of her life.

“Look, you mean well but you have no idea wh-”

“You said you didn’t start it. I believe you,” Sam says. “I can help you, Marin, before he tries to hurt you again.” He heads back into his room as if expecting her to follow, and sits on his bed. So she does follow. Not because she thinks his claim is valid, but because- well, she’s bored. 

“You’re worse,” Marin replies. “Your organs need sleep, you know. Your hair and nails are gonna fall out, and your kidneys are gonna shut down. I saw it in a movie.” She notices his bemused and maybe a little hurt expression before adding “Sorry,” as if that makes her creepy statement and grim death sentence any better. 

“So, um- your brother. When did he pass?” 

The conversation has just crossed into sensitive territory, now. Marin swallows before answering.

“Uh, last year,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Do you see him?”

Marin shakes her head.

“So… he just talks to you.” Sam winces as he stands up from the bed. “Bet at first it wasn’t so bad. You must have missed him. Did you just hear him at the house?”

“Here, too,” Marin says. “Whenever I’m alone. I can always tell he’s coming because I get these chills.” She gestures shakily at her back as indication.

“You feel cold.”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re right. At first it’s like… I knew I was crazy but... I didn’t really care. I did miss him.” Tears are welling in her eyes now. “But then… he started saying he was lonely. And he started to get mad. And one day he started yelling, and I tried to run but the door was locked. And when I turned around, the whole room was on fire. I barely got out.” There’s a pause before she speaks again. “How can you help me?”

“I can put your brother to rest,” Sam tells her. Her heart skips a beat because she loves Mikey, really she does, but she wants him out because this isn’t him. This is a flimsy copy of her Mikey and it means less to her than it should. “He’s … um … he’s stuck here.”

“For real? Like-” Marin starts.

“Like he’s a ghost,” Sam finishes. 

“Why should I trust you?” she asks, truly looking for an answer. This strange guy shows up at a freaking psychiatric ward claiming to be able to get her dead brother’s ghost out of her head. Honestly. It sounds like one of the young adult novels Marin used to love so much, before happy ending seemed impossible.

“Because it’s your only shot,” Sam says, and maybe it’s true, but she doesn’t want to get her hopes up by trusting him.

“Okay,” Marin decides. 

“Okay,” Sam says. “So, your brother- was he cremated? Buried?”

“We cremated him.”

“And do you have anything of his?”

Marin’s mind immediately flies to Mikey’s friendship bracelet, still hanging from her wrist.

“This. He made it for me. With a busted hand, too. Sliced it open during stupid archery.”

“He bled on it?” Sam asks.

“Probably.” Marin smiles at the memory that used to seem so arbitrary, but now is worth more than gold. The bracelet reminds her of why she loved- loves, she reminds herself- Mikey. Sam grins a bit, looking like he feels grateful, though Marin can’t imagine why.

“Good. That’s- that’s good.”

“Why is that good?”

“One more question,” Sam says in reply, instead of answering her question. “Is there any chance in hell you’ve got a lighter?”

oOo

Later, Marin shows up at his door holding up a pocketed cigarette lighter. Sam’s sitting at his desk looking tired, as always, but he still seems relatively alert when she comes in.

“Nice. Where’d you score that?” he asks.

“Grabbed it out of Marcus’ pocket,” she answers. “Being locked up is really turning me into a decent criminal.” Sam doesn’t seem to be listening. He closes the door and shifts a chair so it leans up under the doorknob, preventing anyone from getting in.

“We’re laying down a circle. Help me open these, okay?” They go to the side of the bed closest to the window, where there’s the most space, and pour salt in a circle using the containers probably stolen from his food trays.

Suddenly, Sam gasps when the edge of the circle starts to erode by itself. He backs towards the window a bit, startling and frightening Marin. This seems a little too crazy and a little too real to be true.

“You’re gonna have to do this on your own,” Sam tells her. She looks at him with wide eyes. Usually he’s more composed. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m just having a little…” He gestures to his head. “Dizzy thing. It’ll pass.”

Once they finish the circle, they stand up in the center.

“Great. Now, um.... stay with me in the circle. No matter what. No matter what happens, okay?” 

“What’s gonna happen?” Marin asks. She had figured this was some kind of seance, maybe, but not life-threatening.

“Give me the bracelet,” Sam says. She prepares to tug it off of her wrist and hand it to him when electricity crackles in the air around them and the lights flicker. They look around for any change in their surroundings, when by the door, Mikey appears.

But it isn’t him. It looks more like a hologram of her brother than the real thing, and the furious glint in Mikey’s eyes definitely don’t belong to her Mikey. Marin stays behind Sam as a kind of protection, since he seems to know what he’s doing.

“Marin. Don’t do this. Please,” Mikey implores, and it’s all Marin can do to stay put and not inspect this strange Mikey impostor. Yet a part of her remains that wants to bound over and give him a bear hug like in the old days. 

“Marin, give me the bracelet,” Sam demands, not unkindly.

“I’m so sorry, I have to,” she tells Mikey’s specter. Her voice breaks and she nearly falls down crying, but she holds herself together enough to give Sam the bracelet. 

As soon as she rips it off of her wrist, the chair keeping the door closed rattles and flies across the room. The overhead lights burst and shatter and, breathing heavily, Sam lights the bracelet aflame and casts it on the floor. Fire consumes the piece of Mikey standing in the room as he screams until the flames die out and all that’s left of him is nothing.

Sam’s treatment has worked wonders on Marin. Ever since the bracelet first lit on fire, Marin has felt incredibly lighter without his voice in her head. For a moment, she and Sam just stand there, panting, as they stare at the spot where Mikey’s ghost once was. Then he turns around and faces her.

“You got to go. Go!” Sam says urgently, so Marin starts to rush out of his room when she pauses and turns around.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely. She dashes out of the room and doesn’t look back.

oOo

Last Marin hears, Sam got sent to electroshock therapy. It’s a damn shame, really, because she truly likes the man who saved her from Mikey. He gets replaced by a stony-faced man who doesn’t speak or eat or anything, and Marin doesn’t bother trying to converse with him. Besides, there’s no use making friends there; she’s due to be released soon anyways because Mikey’s voice has completely left her head. 

Once she gets released from the ward, she considers trying to find Sam, to properly thank him for what he did. But then she smiles and shakes her head to herself and figures he’s probably got a lot on his plate as is. Whatever really happened that day in the ward was something not unusual to him, and she suspects she really doesn’t want to know what his usual is.

It’s a little sad to be free of Mikey.

But hey- she’s free.

That’s got to count for something.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! I don't really know where this came from but I decided to post it anyways. It's a bit obscure, but I hope it's okay.


End file.
